


Love and Regret

by grey853



Category: Wilby Wonderful (2004)
Genre: Explicit Language, M/M, implied male slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-11
Updated: 2012-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-18 09:42:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/559589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey853/pseuds/grey853
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buddy tries to understand the mess that is his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love and Regret

A bitter wind blew off the ocean, whipped up across the rocky beach of the Watch, and cut right through Buddy French's body. It stung his cheeks and made him shiver, the icy cold bone-deep, like he might freeze rock solid any minute.

Buddy sat on a boulder, hunched over, pulling his jacket higher around his neck. Finishing his cigarette, he flipped the filter off across the pebbles, thankful that it was biodegradable. He thought of all the butts littering the ground, thought about how ugly the world would be if nature didn't have a way of cleaning up people's messes, of sweeping away all the garbage they heaped on the earth. He fumbled for his nearly empty pack and got another cigarette, lit it, and then took a long drag. Smoke filled his lungs and his heart ached just a little less. He didn't care if his lungs rotted as the nicotine rushed through his body and made unbearable things just bearable.

Closing his eyes, he thought about his wife Carol, questioned whether he even knew her at all. They'd married in a rush, caught up in a whirlwind of emotion that came from having too much sex and laughter mixed together. Their wild fling and romance snatched them up from the dullness of ordinary and he'd loved that onslaught of feeling, loved her with all her inviting touches and feminine ways. She was the most beautiful and exotic woman he'd ever known, dark eyes and long, soft hair, nothing like the women in Wilby. He loved teasing his fingers through that thick hair, brushing it against his skin, sniffing it right after she'd brushed it. He loved making love to her, sinking into her as she shuddered and wrapped her scent and her being around him, protecting him from his own personal misery. She'd whispered his name in the dark, begged for him to fuck her, and he'd forgotten all his troubles, all the worries and fears. He thought she could save him, make his life whole, fill in all the emptiness he carried inside.

But then he'd brought her home to Wilby to meet his mother and those dreams crumpled, not all at once, but little by little, bit by bit. The two women hated each other on sight, hated most what was alike between them, their possessive and controlling natures clashing and making his life even more horrible. It got even worse when his mother got sick. Cancer plagued his world, took away the one anchor of his life, his mother. Carol never understood how deeply that hurt him to have her nitpicking and bickering when his mum was dying. There was nothing he could do to slow the suffering, to even make her comfortable in the end. Even now the loss haunted and lingered, made his mind wander at the worst of times, made it hard to focus on what mattered. Of course, he'd lost track of what really mattered years ago.

The woman he'd married turned into a stranger, somebody he didn't even like that much anymore. Love loss left him weak and scared, almost afraid to move sometimes. It just hurt too much so he practiced being numb, cutting himself off from emotions, putting on a show of strength for the outside world. Inside, he knew the truth of his own frailty and it made him sick to his stomach, made him want more than anything to hide in a dark corner.

Sitting in the cold, Buddy thought about the last few weeks, about that one night that flicked the switch in his head, telling him things had to change. How could Carol have done what she did, cut Dan down and stuffed his body under the stairs, more concerned with real estate than saving his life? He didn't want to think about what might have happened if Jarvis had died, if the girl hadn't found him and started screaming, got the ball rolling to get the man help. He still shuddered at the shock of hearing Carol confess her actions, horrified by her own metamorphosis into this person she didn't even recognize anymore. She blamed him for part of that change, accused him of indifference, passivity, ranted against his inability to communicate. She accused him of using his own pain as a weapon against her. Buddy wondered if she were right, if he did strike out because of disappointment, try to hurt her with his infidelity, unfaithfulness if not in body, certainly in spirit.

However, despite temptation, Buddy never once fucked Sandra. Sure, he'd kissed her, made out, yes, but never went all the way. That was the one thing he hadn't done since he'd taken vows, fucked around on Carol, not literally anyway. Still, in his head, he'd screwed just about every good-looking man and woman in Wilby and anybody else his mind could conjure up for jerking off. The star, though, the one person he cheated with the most was his childhood buddy Duck. He'd lost count of the times he'd jerked off with Duck in his head. He fucked Duck or Duck sucked him off mostly, though sometimes he'd even imagined Duck fucking him, something they'd never actually done in real life. It didn't matter that it was really just Buddy's hand doing all the actual work. He might start off thinking about Carol or Peggy Jean in accounting or even that new deputy named David, but by the time he came, it was always Duck smiling.

It'd been easier when Duck hadn't been in town, when he'd been away in the city. Buddy could play with himself, no guilt, no bother, but then Duck showed up a few years ago when his father passed away. He'd taken over the painting business and now Buddy saw him all the time. They didn't talk much, just hello and shit, nothing too long or involved. But now Buddy got off even more often with a fresh image of Duck's strong body and handsome face in his mind. Sure, Duck was no spring chicken anymore. He'd added more than a few lines to his face and his eyes were more sad than ever, but they were still beautiful and really, really kind. That was the thing about Duck. He had kind eyes, eyes that saw right through a person's bullshit. He knew when Buddy had done something stupid or hurtful, but he never judged him or put him down about it, not like Carol who harped and kept nagging until he wanted to scream and slam a fist into the drywall. Duck never did that, and Buddy loved him for it.

It was a rare thing, kindness. The older he got, the more Buddy realized how lucky he'd been to have Duck growing up. If only he hadn't been such a fucking coward and dickhead, things might have been different.

As it was, a younger Buddy fucked Duck, but never talked about love or the future. Those things weren't options, not for them, not for two guys from Wilby. It just didn't happen.

Buddy snorted to himself and shook his head as he thought about Duck and Dan Jarvis, how it was obvious that Duck cared for Dan. The force of his jealousy surprised him. He didn't have a claim on Duck, didn't even deserve his friendship, not after the things he'd said and done. Duck still called him friend, but that was that kindness thing again, that goodness that Duck nurtured, something for which Buddy was forever grateful.

Intellectually, he wished Duck and Dan the best, but emotionally, he wasn't quite so generous. In his heart, Duck still belonged to him. It was a stupid, selfish thought, but Buddy couldn't deny the hateful feelings that wound through his gut when he thought about those two kissing or holding one another at night, when he imagined Duck sucking Dan off until he screamed and whimpered with pleasure. No, Buddy accepted their relationship like he accepted so many inevitable things in his life, but he didn't have to be happy about it.

Still, if Duck and Dan stayed together, they'd have their work cut out for them. Wilby was small town in every sense of the word, both good and bad. The good part was that they'd have their small circle of friends, but the bad was that they'd have no privacy, no way to hide the relationship if they wanted it. Some people would be evil-tongued and spiteful, others supportive. There was very little neutral ground in a small town. It took some getting used to. New folks most often left because they never did get it, never did understand the whole definition of community. It could save a life or destroy it on a whim. Just ask Dan Jarvis about that. He didn't try to hang himself because of all the sweetness and light one might think of as Wilby. The threat of exposing his deepest secret drove him to desperation because he'd come to Wilby for sanctuary and had been betrayed by those people he'd wanted to join. Poor man lost his way, but Duck found him. If anyone could save the guy, it'd be Duck. In that, Buddy envied Jarvis.

"So, you just going to sit there until the tide comes in or what?"

Buddy jerked upright, opened his eyes, and looked up into a familiar face. He relaxed. "Duck."

"You look like someone skinned your puppy."

"That bad?"

"Worse."

Sighing, staring back out at the sea, Buddy asked, "How is he?"

They didn't have to discuss who he was. They both knew. "He's doing better every day. He's still a little shell shocked."

"I can imagine."

Duck took out a cigarette and lit it, throwing the burned out match on the rocks. "How's Carol?"

"She's okay."

"She saved his life. He was lucky."

Angrily, Buddy stood up and stomped a few paces, then came back, his right hand balled into a fist. "She nearly let him die, Duck. She stuffed his body under the fucking stairs for godsakes."

Duck didn't look away, his face still calm. "She cut him down, Buddy. If she hadn't, he'd be dead."

"But-"

"Let it go. I'm grateful she found him."

Rage defused, Buddy nodded and then puffed on his cigarette a few more times. "So, he's staying with you, yeah?"

"For now."

"You think he'll leave?"

"I hope not. He's still not ready to think about all that. I'm trying to get him to see somebody."

"You mean like a shrink?"

"Yeah."

"That's a good. He probably needs that."

Duck shrugged, kicking a loose stone. "He's not really keen on the idea, but I'm working on it. Anyway, I just saw you down here and wanted to say thanks."

"Thanks for what?"

"For killing the story in THE SENTINEL. If they'd published those names, it would've been the last straw. Dan would've left town and I'd probably go with him."

"You'd leave Wilby? You hardly know the guy."

"I know him well enough to know I want to know him even better than I do now."

Buddy took a couple of deep breaths and then turned to step along the water's edge before walking back. "They were setting you guys up."

"You guys?"

"Yeah, you know, guys who go to the Watch. They wanted to sell the land, make it into a fucking golf course. The mayor had it all worked out. Bastard."

"Then I guess it was good that you were there to stop it."

Buddy gave a short laugh and shook his head in sour amusement. "You don't get it. I wouldn't have stopped it if Carol hadn't almost let Jarvis die."

"You saying you felt guilty and that's why you finally did something?"

"I guess I just realized how bad it could get for somebody like Dan, somebody like you. It wasn't fair what they were doing."

Duck pursed his lips, taking his time smoking up the rest of his cigarette. He tossed it away, his voice soft. "Somebody like me, huh?"

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." He paused, started to speak, but then shook his head. He thumbed toward the highway. "Guess I should go. Don't stay down here too much longer. People might start thinking you were somebody, too."

Buddy's face heated. "I'm not like that anymore."

"Yeah?"

"No, not for a long time." Impulsively, stepping closer, Buddy asked, "You ever think about us?"

Duck didn't answer right away, just stared into his eyes without blinking. Then his lips thinned into a small grin. "Sometimes."

"Yeah? Me, too."

"I figured."

"How come?"

"You avoid me."

The words hurt like a slap. "I do not."

"Sure you do. Mostly it's when you're with Carol. I understand, though. I get it."

"Yeah? What is it you think you get?"

"You made it plain enough right before we broke up."

Buddy turned away, rubbing his forehead, the hurt as real and as biting as it was years ago when he'd said such horrible things. "I just couldn't-"

"I know, Buddy. You don't have to explain."

Wrapping his arms around his middle, Buddy smiled sadly. "Good thing, because I can hardly explain it to myself, much less you. I was a mess back then."

Duck didn't say anything, but Buddy turned and saw the look, the one that said Duck remembered everything between them, the wonderful discoveries they'd made together, the terrible hurt that went with that new world of sexuality when one person hates that part of himself. "I have to go, Buddy. You take care, okay?"

"Yeah, you, too. Tell Dan I hope he gets to feeling better."

"I will." Duck hesitated, not quite ready to leave. "Buddy, you and Carol, you two going to be okay?"

"I don't know yet." The truth burned his tongue. He'd never said it out loud before and it stunned his ears. "I really don't know her."

"She's your wife."

"I know, but she's a stranger, too."

Duck stared right into him and then nodded thoughtfully. "I know what that's like."

"Do you?"

"Sure." Then he stepped closer to Buddy, his voice soft and his breath warm. "Go home, Buddy. Introduce yourself and give her a chance. Let the ice thaw."

"Let the ice thaw? What the fuck does that mean?"

"Sometimes a relationship freezes. You get frostbite and you have to let it warm up slowly or it hurts too much."

"Emotional hypothermia, yeah?"

"Something like that. Anyway, Carol's a good person, you're a good person. You two want it to work, it will."

"Just that easy?"

Duck grinned and shook his head. "No, never that easy. Fuck, it's hardly even bearable, but it's that or be alone. Alone sucks."

"Yeah, it does."

"Go home, Buddy."

"I will in a minute. I need to clear my head first."

Duck touched his shoulder, lightly at first and then with a quick squeeze for emphasis. "Go home."

Then he turned and walked up the long path to his truck. As he drove away, Buddy stood there, remaining still, the heat from his body drained away, all except for the fire from the touch to his shoulder. Duck's hand on his skin even through the jacket branded his flesh with a need and a hunger he didn't dare talk about. Talk or not, it lingered in his head, wanting Duck more than he ever wanted anyone.

Tears stung his eyes and he turned back towards the ocean, the open sea so much more inviting than the thought of going home to Carol. She deserved better than what he'd given her over the last few years, deserved to be loved and held, treasured and gifted with the same intimacy that he'd had with Duck so many years ago. He just didn't know if he deserved her, not after all his wayward dreaming about the what ifs of his past. Still, she hadn't packed a bag yet and she'd made his favorite meal the night before. They might still have a chance if he shut the door on regret and opened another one to the love she had to offer.

Instead of lighting another cigarette, Buddy took his time to get back to his cruiser. Signed off from duty already, he started the engine and headed back to the road home, thinking that maybe Duck had a point. It was time to thaw and try again, time to try to save himself from the glacial fields of his own heart.

The End


End file.
